


I Shouldn’t Have Said That

by vic_amy_z



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Kissing, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vic_amy_z/pseuds/vic_amy_z
Summary: Three times that Much’s mouth got him into trouble…
Relationships: Much the Miller's Son/Robin of Locksley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	I Shouldn’t Have Said That

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in this fandom (I watched the show back when it first aired and loved it but a recent re-watch bit me hard!) This started out as a very different story, but then the flashbacks just took over and became… this. The title is taken from Much’s wonderful understatement in Episode 1, where his inability to keep his mouth shut is telegraphed loud and clear.

**~~~~~~~~**

Much is one of life’s talkers. He knows this but somehow, he just can’t help it. Sometimes it gets him into trouble…

**~~~~~~~~**

There was a lot that Much wasn’t prepared for when he went with his master to fight in the Holy Land. And although he was Robin of Locksley’s manservant, so by rights could not outright refuse to go with him, he had gone gladly to fight for his king and country, and to take care of his master. Perhaps if Much had known what he would be facing then he might have given more thought to Robin’s offer for him to stay behind in Locksley and tend to the estate, but in all honesty, he would probably still have gone with him. Such was the draw of Robin, for Much at least.

But he wasn’t prepared for witnessing so much death, and so up close and personal; the horror of killing an enemy that he had been led to believe were somehow less then human yet looked not so very different to himself and Robin when they lay dying.

He wasn’t prepared for how much marching he would have to do; the way his entire body would hurt at the end of each day just from the intense heat, the physical exertion, and the weight of his armour and weaponry, even when he had not been forced into combat. 

He wasn’t prepared for the difficulties of getting supplies in the desert; how hungry he would be as a consequence of this and of being at the bottom of the pecking order when it came to being fed, although Robin always shared his provisions equally between them.

And right now, he was absolutely not prepared for how cold he was. The temperature plummeted overnight as darkness descended on the desert, and Much felt as though he’d never been this cold in his entire life and would never be warm again, even though he also knew that by daybreak tomorrow, the temperature would already be climbing to unbearable levels and he’d spend the rest of the day sweating.

And Much - being Much - was complaining bitterly about it to Robin. Again.

‘It’s not just that I’m cold, Master,’ he said between chattering teeth, ‘it’s that…’

‘That you’re hungry too?’ finished Robin, wearily.

‘Yes!’ Much exclaimed, sounding surprised. ‘How did you know?’ 

‘You might have mentioned it once or twice.’

‘I’m sorry…’ Much mumbled into his pillow, pulling the blanket tighter around his ears. He knew that Robin was just as cold as he was (although Much refused to admit that anyone could feel as hungry as he did). He also knew that complaining about it wasn’t going to make a difference, but he couldn’t help it.

Much resolved to try and get some sleep and make no further mention of the cold or his empty stomach, and he might have succeeded had his body not chosen that exact moment to wrack itself with a shiver so intense that Much felt his teeth rattling loudly in his head, which still didn’t drown out the enormous growl of hunger that came from his stomach.

There was a second or two of complete silence following this outburst, and then a strange noise from Robin, which Much quickly realised was laughter. ‘Master?’ he enquired, tentatively, hoping that he wasn’t in trouble.

‘Oh, Much,’ Robin said, the amusement still in his voice. ‘Even when your mouth is silent, somehow the rest of you is still complaining!’

‘Sorry…’ Much said again, miserably. He turned on his side, away from Robin, and shut his eyes tightly, willing every part of him to stay quiet.

There was rustle of movement from Robin’s mattress and in the half-light cast by the glow of the fire from the camp outside, Much rolled back to see his master standing over him, clutching his blanket with a smile on his face that looked almost nervous. ‘Well, I can’t do anything about you being hungry, at least until breakfast time, but I might be able to help with the cold?’ 

For one terrifying moment, Much thought that Robin intended to give him his own blanket, in which case he would have probably died of shame on the spot, neatly solving both of his problems. Then Robin said quickly, ‘For the love of God, Much, just move over, will you?’ and before Much could do more than roll back onto his side, Robin was crawling in behind him and under the blanket. Once settled, he then took his own blanket and spread it over both of them. Finally, Robin slipped an arm around Much’s waist and puller their bodies closer.

Only now, Much was frozen with confusion as well as cold. On the one hand, he felt as though his master sharing his bed was probably some sort of transgression from which he might never recover. On the other hand, Robin was pressed against him in a very pleasing way and his teeth appeared to have stopped chattering. ‘Um… Master?’ Much began, quietly. ‘What are…? I mean... Are we…?’ No, there simply wasn’t an appropriate ending to that sentence, so Much just gave up and stared straight ahead in uncharacteristic silence.

‘If I’d known that this was the best way to shut you up, I’d have tried it years ago,’ Robin laughed, softly. His voice was low in Much’s ear; breath ghosting over his skin. ‘Are you feeling warmer now?’ he asked.

Much nodded, not trusting himself to try and say anything in case it came out as an embarrassing squeak. He might have let his arm drop a little though, so it was resting casually on top of Robin’s that draped over his waist and lay warmly against his middle. There were a few minutes of companionable silence, but Much couldn’t keep it up for very long.

‘Master…?’ he ventured, cautiously.

Yes, Much…?’ Robin replied with an amused sigh.

‘What made you…? I mean… How did you know that this would be a good way for us to keep warm?’ _And that it wouldn’t just be horribly awkward_ , Much wanted to add, but didn’t.

There was a silence that stretched out into just this side of uncomfortable before Robin answered, ‘I, er… I overheard some of the other men talking. They mentioned that sharing body heat was… efficient, so I thought we might as well try it. You don’t mind, do you?’

The question was quieter and almost hesitant, as if Much might actually say that he _did_ mind. ‘No, Master. I don’t mind. And I am warmer.’

‘Good… that’s good.’ Robin pulled Much in a little tighter and a small tingle of pleasure shot through his body. In the silence, Much felt as though Robin was almost on the verge of saying something else, but eventually he just murmured, ‘’Night, Much,’ and buried his head a little further into the back of Much’s neck.

‘Goodnight, Master,’ Much replied, softly, honestly not knowing how on earth he was supposed to get any sleep being this close to Robin, even if it was warmer. Yet despite this feeling, Much had drifted off within minutes and slept more soundly than he had done since leaving Locksley.

The following morning, Much woke at first light as usual, surprised at how rested he felt and also quietly delighted to find that Robin being next to him all night hadn’t been just a dream. Reluctantly, he dragged himself up off the mattress, ensuring that Robin remained tucked in under the blankets, and left the tent to go and attend to his morning chores.

As he gathered supplies, Much struck up his usual conversations with some of the men; servants of the other knights and noblemen, or other foot-soldiers, mostly. They talked about what breakfast provisions there were, the plans for the coming day’s manoeuvres, and how they had slept the previous night. Remembering Robin’s somewhat tentative explanation of hearing others talk about sleeping together for warmth, Much made a casual mention of how cold it had been.

‘I had so little feeling in my toes this morning, I thought they’d dropped off in the night,’ complained one of the other manservants.

Much took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘I heard that the best way to keep warm is to lie close to someone else.’ He was being stared at now, and they weren’t looks of agreement. ‘Y’know, sharing body heat?’

There was a horrible pause in which Much had just enough time to wish, yet again, that he’d kept his mouth shut, before the other men roared with laughter. ‘Good one, Much!’ one said, clapping him on the back as he carried a pitcher of water back to the table.

‘With the bloke I’m sharing my tent with?’ laughed another. ‘Not even if I’d frozen solid!’

‘We don’t all feel the same way about our masters as you do, Much,’ they teased. ‘Some of us have the misfortune of serving absolute bastards!’

At that, Much had hurriedly made his excuses and left, his face burning with shame. He didn’t know why Robin had lied to him, or if the whole thing had just been some sort of elaborate joke at Much’s expense. And if it had, then why had Robin still been curled around him this morning?

That night, when they finally retired to their tent after a meagre supper, the silence between them was tangible and the unspoken question seemed to hang in the air like woodsmoke. Robin quickly stripped down to his leggings and undertunic and laid down on his mattress, pulling the blanket around him. Much took a little longer to get ready, wondering if Robin was waiting for him to get into bed or whether last night had just been a trick after all.

In the semi-darkness, Robin’s voice finally cut through the silence with, ‘Well hurry up, if you’re getting in. I’m freezing over here.’

Needing no further encouragement, Much scrambled onto the mattress behind Robin, arranged his blanket over the two of them and then tentatively laid his arm across Robin. He hadn’t been sure if he should, and had been wishing fervently that they were still on his mattress, but when Robin’s hand took hold of his and pulled him closer, Much soon found that he liked this way too.

After that, they shared a mattress and blankets every night. Sometimes Robin lay behind Much, sometimes the other way around. They didn’t ever talk about it; it just became a tacit arrangement between the two of them. Just as they didn’t talk about it when the day had been a particularly brutal one, and they held on to each other just a little bit tighter. Or when some subtle shifting was required first thing in the morning to reposition hands that had occasionally wandered during the night. Or to reposition other body parts.

It was a few months later, following a tough couple days of fighting, that Much was spooned behind Robin one night. He was exhausted but still could not fall asleep, for some reason. He listened to Robin’s slow, regular breathing and let the knowledge that his master was deeply asleep try to soothe him. He’d seen Robin take on some fierce battles in recent days and was grateful for his skills with a bow that had kept him safe so far.

Much closed his eyes and shifted a little closer to Robin. He pressed his palm against Robin’s chest until it picked up the reassuring beat of his heart. In his tiredness, he found himself leaning across and placing a soft kiss on the warm skin behind Robin’s ear. ‘I love you, Master…’ he murmured.

‘I love you too, Much. Now go to sleep.’

Much froze. Everything stopped; time, his breathing, very possibly his heart too. He wasn’t sure if he should leave immediately to find a suitable cliff to hurl himself off, or if he should wait until morning. The rules around being caught kissing your master were not clear in Much’s head. Then his mouth took over.

‘When I say that I love you, obviously I don’t mean _love_ love. I mean, there are a lot of ways in which a person can feel love for another person. I mean more of a platonic sort of love, like a love between brothers, or something. Yes, that’s it. I mean, not there’s anything wrong with loving someone in other ways, it’s just that…’

Much couldn’t continue his monologue because suddenly Robin was kissing him. Not gently or tentatively, but purposefully. And with more than a hint of tongue. When they broke apart, Robin had one hand tangled in Much’s hair, they were pressed against each other from forehead to toes and Much’s heart was beating so hard that he briefly wondered if this was how he was going to die in the Holy Land - not at the hands of a Saracen but at the hands of Robin’s kisses.

‘Sorry…’ Robin sounded contrite but Much could see that he was grinning. ‘I thought you might never stop talking and I panicked.’ Much couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Besides, your declaration of love came with a kiss, so it seemed only fair that mine should too.’

‘I think I liked yours better,’ Much breathed, too dazed to feel self-conscious.

‘Me too,’ Robin said, who kissed him again and Much surrendered to it. 

A short while later, when they had thoroughly explored each other’s mouths and were well on their way to considering exploring a little further afield, a question suddenly occurred to Much, but he wasn’t sure if he should say anything in case Robin decided to stop doing any of the range of delightfully wicked things that he was currently doing. In the end, Much’s curiosity won out, as it usually did.

‘The first time… When you suggested sleeping together for warmth. Was it really something you overheard? It’s just that, I’ve never heard anyone else mention it, so…’ he trailed off.

In the darkness, Much could have sworn that he actually felt the heat of Robin’s blush. ‘Well, I could hardly tell you the truth, could I?’ There was a pause, as Much waited for the truth. ‘That I just wanted to hold you and make everything okay again?’

Much just didn’t know how to respond to that; the emotions he felt were starting to overwhelm him so he settled for wrapping his arms around Robin and kissing him instead, hoping that this told Robin exactly how okay he had made everything. Robin returned the kiss with equal passion, pulling them tight together. There was a promise of more, but in that moment, it was enough for both of them.

Most nights after that, they were still content to simply share a bed, although curled around each other for something more than just warmth and comfort now. But on some nights - particularly those where Much found it difficult to shut off his brain, and consequently his mouth - on those nights, Robin found that kissing him was a very effective way to keep him quiet.

Much wasn’t about to point out that this was exactly why he started talking in the first place. 

~~~~~~~~

Just as he had followed his master to war in the Holy Land and back to England, Much had gladly followed Robin into the forest, and into the life of an outlaw. It didn’t matter that Robin had made him a free man and was technically no longer his master, Much had followed him anyway. Sometimes he wondered if there was anywhere that Robin could lead where he _wouldn’t_ follow.

It hadn’t been easy at first; giving up the life that he thought he’d be returning to and going back to a life of unanticipated fighting, questionable living conditions, and always being hungry. But he had Robin, and that was basically all that really mattered to Much.

And things weren’t so bad now that they had the camp that Will had so cleverly built. Eventually, they’d all found their own roles within the group, and Much was more than happy to take on the job of cooking - mostly because he’d made the mistake of tasting some of the others’ cooking in the past, and was quite frankly surprised that he’d lived to tell the tale. He also suspected that Robin had put him in charge of gathering provisions because then he’d only have himself to blame if he went hungry. Well, that was the theory anyway…

They were all enjoying the remnants of a warm spring evening; the weather had been kind for the last few days, and having finished a dinner that was plentiful enough even for Much, everyone had split off to complete some necessary chores before night started to fall. Robin had gone out to check on some of their caches on the other side of the forest, Allan and Little John were undertaking some repairs and sharpening of the weapons, and Will and Djaq had gone to make a patrol of the perimeter. Although Much couldn’t help thinking that their version of patrolling tended to involve a lot more kissing than anyone else’s.

That was the main reason that Much mostly took his patrol shifts with Allan or sometimes Little John. He took his loyalty to the outlaws very seriously, and Much didn’t trust himself to do something as important as ensuring everyone’s safety alongside Robin - not when he’d prefer to be lying in a secluded hollow with him, kissing instead. Particularly the one that was just to the north of the camp that Will and Djaq seemed to think no one else knew about. Or could hear…

They did go on many of the less crucial expeditions together, and so far the others hadn’t seemed to have noticed that it was only when Robin and Much went to forage for supplies together that they tended to come back after three hours with absolutely nothing to show for their efforts other than stupid grins and half the forest floor stuck in their hair.

For his part that evening, Much was tidying what he’d come to think of as _his_ kitchen area; humming quietly to himself as he stored away some of the herbs that he’d picked earlier. He was happy and relaxed in the safe environment of their camp, and wasn’t even thinking about having to listen out for someone approaching. Which was why the strong hand that clamped over his mouth to prevent him from screaming and the equally strong arm that wrapped around his chest, quickly pulling him backwards, came as a complete surprise.

Much struggled against the intruder’s grip, desperately trying to get his feet back underneath him again or to get any kind of purchase on the soft ground, but he just could right himself quickly enough. After half a dozen yards or so, his abductor suddenly stopped and spun him around. Running mostly on instinct, Much immediately threw a punch at the hooded figure in front of him, and he was lucky that Robin had the foresight to duck swiftly or he might have been knocked on his arse.

‘Hey! It’s me, Much, you idiot!’ Robin hissed, pushing his hood back and pinning Much’s arms to his sides before he could throw another punch, staring at him as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d done it and as though being kidnapped by your own leader was a perfectly normal occurrence.

‘Robin…’ Much panted, stepping away with relief and bending over to rest his hands on his knees while he waited for his heart rate to return to something approaching normal. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

‘Shhh!’ Robin motioned, ‘Come with me…’ He took hold of Much’s hand and lead him quickly away from the camp.

Much couldn’t imagine what kind of emergency constituted the need for him to be dragged off into forest without alerting any of the others to the danger, and he had a million questions running through his head, most of them centring around whether they were likely to die in the next few minutes. When Robin stopped again, it was to push Much up against a large tree and kiss him enthusiastically.

When they finally broke apart, which was admittedly after a number of seconds, Much could barely manage to splutter out, ‘This?! This is what you nearly killed me for? You were feeling…’ he struggled for the right word through his incredulity, ‘…frisky?!’

Robin shrugged, a slightly sheepish look on his face. ‘Surprise?’ he tried, unsuccessfully. Then he leaned in and kissed Much’s neck softly, clearly hoping that this course of action would win him ‘round. Much let him do this for a bit, if only to prove that Robin was absolutely wrong. 

It turned out that Much was prepared to forgive pretty much anything when Robin had his hands and mouth on him. Despite feeling an odd mixture of exasperation and arousal, he could also feel himself start to laugh, which set Robin off too, until they were both holding onto each other so they didn’t fall to the ground, giggling like children.

‘Honestly, Robin,’ Much finally managed, getting himself under control, ‘I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but there _has_ to be a better way to get my attention. I could have actually punched you back there.’

Robin snorted with laughter again, ‘In your dreams, I saw that punch coming from a mile off!’

Much smacked Robin’s arm playfully. ‘I can assure you that in my dreams I am not punching you…’

Robin moved into him again with a wicked smile, ‘Oh yeah. What _are_ we doing?’

Much’s breath hitched a little as Robin’s lips brushed against his neck again. It took all of his strength to push Robin back and say with as much severity as he could muster when he was equal parts aroused and amused, ‘Stop changing the subject! We were talking about how you can’t go around abducting people just because you’re in the mood. I could’ve died of fright - then what would you have done, eh?’ Much was confident that this had made his point with regard to Robin’s romantic etiquette. 

Robin appeared to give it some serious thought before replying with a grin, ‘I don’t know… Maybe have seen whether Allan was up for it?’

‘Right, that’s it,’ Much threw his hands up in the air and tried to storm off in mock outrage, but Robin had a hold of his arm and was already pulling him back towards the tree, laughing and apologising. 

‘I’m sorry, Much, you know I’m only joking!’ He kissed Much again, one hand against the small of his back, pulling them closer, and the other gently cupping his face in a way that Much thought was very unfair, mostly because it made it so much harder to even pretend that he might still be cross with him. Robin pulled back from the kiss with, ‘No more ambushes, I promise.’ A beat, then, ‘So, what do you suggest instead?’

‘I don’t know. The truth, maybe?’ Much suggested. Surely Robin knew by now that all he had to do was ask.

‘Okay, so the next time we’re all sitting around the fire, enjoying a bowl of your rabbit stew, I’ll just say, _“Much, would you mind meeting me by that large oak on the other side of the clearing after dinner? Only, I’ll need something sturdy that I can push you up against and it has to be far enough away from the camp that they won’t hear you shouting my name when I make you come. And could you pass me some more bread, please?”_!’ 

Much blushed hard at the bluntness of Robin’s language, but he loved hearing the words just the same. ‘I didn’t mean that _everyone_ needs to know the truth,’ he replied hurriedly. ‘Or maybe we could just have some sort of signal?’

‘What, like this?’ Robin asked, at which point he made the most obscene gesture with his hand and mouth that certainly got the point across but was possibly even worse than him just announcing it over the campfire. 

Much nearly choked as he blushed even harder and said, ‘Definitely not _that_ signal!’ It wasn’t often that Robin got to chance to behave in such a carefree, if slightly indecorous manner. Much loved seeing him take the time to just have fun, and loved it even more that this was something that was just between the two of them. ‘I was thinking more like a whistle of some kind? A bird call, maybe?’ Much wasn’t quite sure what the original point of the conversation had been now; Robin was pressed up against him again, his mouth sucking inelegantly on Much’s neck, leaving a mark that would need to be covered by his scarf for the next few days, and it was getting hard to think clearly.

‘Ah, but what if I got it confused with one of the whistles or bird calls that we use to signal each other when we’re out on a mission?’ Robin’s tone was one of innocent musing, which was a complete juxtaposition to the fact that his hands were currently busying themselves with trying to unlace Much’s breeches. ‘I might accidentally end up summoning half the gang to our next encounter…’ He kissed his way down Much’s neck, running his hands over Much’s chest as he dropped to his knees. ‘Although maybe you might not have quite so much to say if we were doing this in front of an audience…’ Robin added teasingly, looking up at Much through lowered lashes before trailing kisses over Much’s now exposed stomach, making him draw in a sharp breath and forget for a second that he was still trying to make a point about something.

The point was nearly lost completely when Robin pushed the clothing down further on his hips and ran his tongue in a line down towards other parts of Much’s anatomy, but somehow he managed to pick up the thread of the conversation.

‘And I do _not_ shout your name when I... you know…’ Much stated a little shakily, managing to sound both embarrassed and indignant at the same time.

Robin looked up at him from his position on the ground with a grin on his face. ‘Hmm, we’ll see about that, shall we?’

‘I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,’ Much added, unwilling to let Robin have the last word.

‘Much!’ Robin exclaimed, stilling the hand that was still working on freeing Much and rolling his eyes in exasperation, ‘I swear to God, next time I will just put an arrow in your mouth and have you bite down on it if you don’t stop talking!’

Much let his head fall back against the sturdy oak with a groan, finding comforting ridges in the bark with his fingers, particularly those he could get a good grip on for when his knees inevitably gave way. As Robin set to work on fulfilling his promise, he was already biting his lip in an effort to stay quiet, but he also couldn’t help smiling at the thought that, no matter how infuriated Robin got with him, they both knew that there would still be a next time.

~~~~~~~~

Much’s day had started badly…

They needed to be up before sunrise to intercept one of the Sheriff’s consignments that they’d found out would be leaving Nottingham at first light. Much was usually one of the first up, but that morning he was woken by Djaq shaking him gently.

‘Much,’ she murmured, softly. ‘Come on, it’s time to get up.’

‘Just a few more minutes, Robin…’ he mumbled in reply.

Djaq smiled to herself and said, ‘Okay, but don’t blame me if Little John finishes all of the bread from last night…’ as she moved away.

Unfortunately, Much had already fallen back to sleep, and didn’t hear her.

He was woken for a second time by Allan, who was less inclined to take Djaq’s caring approach and just dumped a cup of water over Much’s head with, ‘Oi, sleepyhead! Get your arse out of bed, Robin says it’s time to go…’

‘Wha…?’ Much spluttered, wrenching himself upright in shock and shaking the icy cold water out of his hair. He was about to start berating Allan for the rude awakening when he realised that the others were already loading up with supplies and weapons, preparing to move out. ‘No, wait. I’m not ready yet!’ he complained.

‘Not my problem, mate,’ Allan shrugged with an insouciant grin, ‘You’re awake, my work here is done,’ and he sauntered off. Much jumped off his bunk, shivering against the cold morning air and quickly dragged on some extra layers as he jogged over to the others.

‘Good of you to join us, Much,’ Robin said, casually. ‘Okay, everyone ready to go?’

‘But I haven’t had breakfast yet!’ Much exclaimed in horror.

‘Then you should have got up earlier,’ Robin told him firmly. ‘Somehow everyone else managed it.’

‘But couldn’t I just…’

‘No, you couldn’t. We have one chance to intercept this shipment and we’re not going to miss it because of your stomach. Now let’s go.’ Robin lead the way out of the camp and the others followed, leaving Much with no choice but to bring up the rear, grumbling about being tired, wet and hungry before the day had barely begun.

And the day did not get any better from Much’s point of view. The trek through the forest to their point of interception was long and Much had forgotten his scarf so he complained about being cold until Little John, who often had the least patience with Much, particularly at such an early hour, told him in no uncertain terms that if he _had_ remembered his scarf then he’d have been wearing it as a muzzle.

Once they were in place, they waited. The sun began to rise above the tree line and still they waited. Much was uncomfortable crouched down out of sight behind a raised bank. He fidgeted and huffed until Robin told him to go and stand on the other side of the clearing before the coach came through and he gave their position away. Ten minutes later there was a strangled cry of, ‘Will you just give it a flippin’ rest?!’ and thirty seconds after that Much was sent back to Robin by a very irate Allan. Much explained that Allan had threatened to perform several unsavoury acts on him if he didn’t go away immediately, and he was paraphrasing because Allan had used at least three words that Much wasn’t prepared to repeat in front of Djaq.

After several long hours of waiting, and it became apparent that the information they’d received about the Sheriff transporting a large treasury contribution through the forest that morning had somehow been incorrect. Robin signalled to everyone that they might as well give up for the day, and they started to make their way back to the camp. Half a mile or so away from their original position, Will suddenly stopped in his tracks and motioned everyone to be quiet. Much was about to ask why they had stopped but only got two words in before Robin’s arm shot out and pulled him into either a brutal hug or a friendly head lock, depending on how you looked at it, but it effectively silenced him.

Suddenly they all heard what Will had already picked up on - the sound of horses approaching, faint but definitely there. Deciding that it could still be the Sheriff’s gold, they started sprinting back to the clearing in an effort to make it there before the coach. Much would have complained if he wasn’t already using every breath in his body just to keep up.

They were able to intercept the Sheriff’s men but were just shy of the location that they had first picked, so not a lot went to plan after that. No one was giving up without a fight though; Djaq took a blow to the back of her head and Little John promptly knocked her attacker out cold, Robin skilfully dispatched a guard who was about to sink a dagger into Will’s side, and Allan accidentally hit Much in the ribs with the wooden staff he was wielding. At least, he said it was an accident.

Before too long the few remaining guards who were left had the good sense to get on the nearest horse and get the hell out there, leaving the outlaws to both claim their prize and tend to their wounds. Not wanting to hang around in case reinforcements were on their way, it was decided that the strongbox should be taken to one of their safer caches on the edge of the forest. They took it in turns to help carry it through the woodland, but it was heavy and the going was slow. Much was tired and still very hungry, and he protested incessantly about the situation. At first the rest of the outlaws tried teasing him good-naturedly about how grumpy he was being, but then he just complained about being teased and so any remaining goodwill ran out rather rapidly.

By the end of the day, Much was pretty sure that he’d heard the words ‘Shut up, Much!’ more often than he’d heard any other words in his entire life. He knew that he was driving everyone insane with his complaining, but he couldn’t help it – it had just been a day where everything had felt so unfair. And now everyone had agreed that, as dusk was already approaching, it was too late to risk a return journey across the deepest part of the forest so they planned to make camp for the night and move out again at first light. Much was not looking forward to a night under the stars without so much as the comfort of his own bunk. He opened his mouth to say something but happened to catch Little John’s eye, who shot him a look that said if he valued his life, he might want to rethink his course of action, and sensibly closed it again.

Later, after they had settled into their makeshift camp as best they could and after Much had finally had a meal that he all but fell on before devouring, he was starting to feel a bit better. The fire had died down a little and everyone was settling around it, pulling blankets over themselves and trying to get comfortable. 

Just as Much was hoping that his fellow outlaws weren’t going to be cross with him for too long, in the darkness Robin quietly shuffled over and lay close behind him, slipping his arm around Much’s chest. Much leaned into the touch with a contented sigh, happy that Robin at least didn’t appear to be cross with him, and deciding that the day might be finally looking up. He was also a little surprised as the others were all still awake, but he didn’t think that they’d be seen in the glowing embers of the fire.

When it came, Robin’s voice was a low whisper in his ear. ‘Have you got any idea how much of a whiny brat you’ve been today, Much?’ The words were harsh, but the smile could still be heard.

‘I know, Robin, I’m sorry, it’s just that…’ Much turned his head to whisper his defence, but the hand that was pressed against his chest moved upwards and Robin placed it gently over Much’s mouth, silencing him.

Robin continued, his voice soft and even. ‘You have single-handedly driven everyone to the limits of their patience - quite a feat, even for you.’ Much desperately wanted to explain how it wasn’t his fault but he sensed that somehow Robin was not looking for his input at that precise moment. ‘So I thought that maybe you would benefit from a lesson in the importance of knowing when to keep your mouth shut.’

‘Master…?’ Not strictly true anymore, but somehow it felt appropriate given Robin’s tone.

Robin’s hand moved slowly back down over Much’s chest. ‘You’re about to learn that making a noise can have serious consequences.’ Warm fingers continued their descent, ghosting over Much’s stomach until they’d reached his groin and started tugging at the laces there.

At first, Much thought that Robin was just teasing him to try and get a reaction. He’d been half-hard ever since Robin had first pressed in behind him if truth be told, but it wasn’t until Robin’s hand had worked its way into his breeches and started slowly stroking him that he suddenly realised what Robin intended to do. 

Much’s resolve broke at that point, and a stream of whispered apologies came flooding out; promising that he’d do better, promising to never complain about anything ever again and begging Robin to please stop, but Robin cut him off with a very quick kiss, followed by an almost inaudible but still firm, ‘Good night, Much. I don’t want to hear from you again until morning.’

With the other outlaws still preparing for sleep only a few feet away, Robin lay mostly concealed behind Much, continuing to stroke him beneath the blanket while leaning in to press hot and urgent kisses against his neck, or softly bite his ear; things that were guaranteed to make Much want to moan with pleasure at any other time, and having no choice but to remain silent was pure agony. And judging by the tiny sounds of amusement coming from Robin every time Much’s breath hitched, Robin knew _exactly_ what he was putting Much through.

On the other side of the camp fire, Allan was trying to fold Little John’s coat into a makeshift pillow, complaining that the buttons kept poking him in the ear. _Oh, but_ he’s _allowed to complain_ , Much thought to himself as his exquisite torture continued. Unfortunately, the temporary lapse in concentration combined with a well-timed change in tempo from Robin caused Much to whimper out loud.

Allan looked up, squinting into the firelight. ‘I didn’t see you over there, Robin. D’you say something?’

‘No, just saying goodnight to Much,’ Robin replied casually, his hand still working its magic as Much nearly bit through his lip in an effort not to make a sound.

‘I thought he was asleep?’ Allan said, ‘Finally,’ he added with a note of reproach.

‘He is now.’ Much could hear that Robin was almost laughing, but fortunately no one else seemed to have noticed.

‘Thank god for that.’ Allan punched his pillow one final time and lay his head down. ‘I swear the miserable sod didn’t shut up all day.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be in a better mood tomorrow,’ Robin managed to reassure them in a more serious tone of voice, although Much just knew that he was still grinning. Robin twisted his wrist and Much couldn’t help letting out another stifled cry. 

‘See? He’s still bloody moaning, even when he’s asleep!’ Allan grumbled, closing his eyes.

Finally, Robin’s grip tightened, his strokes became faster, and seconds later Much came harder than he could ever remember, his face buried in his arms in a desperate attempt to muffle the sound. 

Robin kissed him softly one last time, whispered good night in his ear and rolled away, leaving Much spent, sticky, utterly contented - and blissfully silent.

**~~~~~~~~**

Much is one of life’s talkers. He knows this but somehow, he just can’t help it. Sometimes it gets him into trouble… And sometimes, that’s quite alright.

**~~~~END~~~~**


End file.
